


A Collection of Firsts

by JoelJansenD



Series: Rendon Cousland [3]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Ferelden, Orlais, Orlesian Chevaliers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 21:36:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17312273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoelJansenD/pseuds/JoelJansenD
Summary: The four 'firsts' in Rendon Cousland and Anora Mac Tir's life together, as prompted by AshLynn on the DAOCE Discord.





	A Collection of Firsts

**Wintermarch 20, 9:31 Dragon – First meeting**  
_Just another spoiled brat who bought himself a sword with dad's fortune. And when things turned sour, he ran back home crying._ Her father's words echoed through Anora's head. _Spends more time pissing himself in cheap brothels than wielding swords. And now he thinks he can be the hero of some non-sensical problem uttered by a deluded fool._ She stared at her rescuer's near-lifeless body. The term broken wouldn't even begin to describe it. Blood oozed out of a large gash in the warrior's neck. His face and body were covered in wounds left by a variety of weapons. Rendon's arm was held together by thin straps of flesh and the last remainders of bone-pierced tendons.

 _A true warrior is not defined by his body. It's not his skill or strength that sets him above the rest. When his mind stands strong where his body fails, that's when a true warrior rises._ Anora never understood her father's ramblings on the definition of 'true' warriors. But as her eyes met Rendon's, she came to appreciate his ideas. The Warden had completely destroyed himself, crawled through the streets of Denerim half-naked and covered in blood, because he had to. He didn't want to survive, but he knew he had to. His role in this war was not meant to end yet.

 **Wintermarch 23, 9:31 Dragon – First words**  
The thought of losing the throne had been continuously present in Anora's mind these last few weeks but never before had she actually been afraid of the realisation that it might actually happen. Erlina had been talking to her for what felt like hours, but her words were little more than background noise failing to get through to Anora.

A knocking on the door interrupted Erlina's monologue. Rendon, still bruised and battered after his escape from Fort Drakon, walked in. He appeared surprisingly well considering that he had been mostly kept unconscious since his return. Anora offered him a seat, which he quietly accepted.  
    'You look... well,' Anora said, unsure on how to phrase it.  
    'It's surprising how much a proper rest and a bath help. Well, that and access to a mage and a dozen lyrium poultices,' Rendon joked. Anora's lips curled into a slight smile, mostly out of politeness as she was shocked to hear someone joke about nearly finding death.  
    'So,' Rendon continued after a moment of silence, 'you wanted to see me?'  
    'I wanted to thank you for–'  
    'No you didn't.' Anora's smile out of politeness became a lot more genuine following Rendon's interruption. For the first time in months, she had a proper political adversary.  
    'Is that so?' Anora's nerves faded in an instant. Finally, she had the chance to do the one thing she enjoyed most of all during her husband's reign. 'Tell me then, Lord Cousland... what are you here for?'  
    'I imagine it has something to do with a very fancy chair, Lady Mac Tir.'

Anora and Rendon talked their way through three bottles of Antivan wine without either of them telling the other exactly what they wanted.  
    'I have missed this,' Anora confessed when Erlina was on her way with the fourth bottle. 'Court has been incredibly dull these last few months.'  
    'Beats being covered in darkspawn blood for days because you can't take a bath.'  
    'Thanks for sharing,' Anora said, suppressing her disgust.

    'Look,' Rendon continued after a moment of silence, 'we're not in Orlais, no one's going to end up getting shanked over telling what they want.'  
    'Alright.' Anora took a deep breath. 'Ferelden is in utter chaos and will remain so, even after the war and the darkspawn are dealt with. What Ferelden needs is a leader who can pull it back together.'  
    'I agree,' said Rendon. 'But that will be Alistair's problem.'  
    'You want to see Alistair crowned?' Anora stared at Rendon in disbelief. 'Surely we can both agree that Alistair would be a terrible king. Ferelden's future will look awful!'  
    'I expect no less than complete mayhem. But at least Ferelden will have a future.'  
    'And I can't secure Ferelden's future?'  
    'Anora, your army has been hunting us for months. You cannot expect us to take your word that you won't see us hanged.'  
    'On my father's orders, not mine!'  
    'That doesn't change anything. There's still a chance that we'll be hanged. Without us, the spawn have free access to the surface. Hundreds of thousands of people will die in Ferelden alone, and then it will spread to the rest of Thedas. I'm willing to put Alistair on the throne to avoid that.'  
    'We both want what's best for Ferelden, Rendon and we both know what's best for Ferelden on the long term.'  
    'Which is why I discussed matters with Eamon. He will never admit it, but deep down he knows just as much that crowning Alistair is a terrible plan. So–'  
    'And he still supports Alistair's bid for the throne?'  
    'So...' Rendon continued, annoyed by Anora's interruption. 'I came up with an alternative. Alistair is a good man, and I have no doubt that the people will adore him. What he needs is someone who operates by his side. Someone who lets him be the face of the Crown while they are the brains.'  
    'And what do you suggest?'  
    'You swear fealty to Alistair and lay down all rights to the throne. After the Archdemon has been dealt with, the two of you get married and you'll rule over Ferelden much like you did before this mess started.'  
    Anora nodded, sunken in her thoughts. 'That's an interesting suggestion.'  
    'Of course–'  
    'Unfortunately, it will never work. Sure, most Fereldans will return to their peaceful lives knowing that the Crown has stability once more. But there are too many loyalists both on my side and Eamon's side who won't let it go so easily.'  
    'That's a problem the two of you will have to work out, then. Alistair will rule whether you like it or not. It's up to you if you want to sit by his side.'  
    'And what would happen to my father?'  
    'If it were up to me we'd stick him back in the army. Despite everything, the man is one hell of a commander and exactly the type of person we need.'  
    'But it won't be up to you, will it?'  
    'And I fear that Alistair won't be as merciful as I would be.'  
'I see. So you need a Warden at court so that–'  
    '–we won't be charged with treason, correct.'  
    'And of course, the Landsmeet would only approve if this Warden was an heir of a well-respected, noble house.'  
    'I imagine so.'  
    'Rendon,' Anora took a deep breath, 'I think that we can work something out.'

 **Kingsway 30, 9:31 Dragon – First kiss**  
Despite being crowned six months ago, general consensus was that the new dynasty of Fereldan royalty hadn't truly begun quite yet which is why the Queen's wedding was such an important event. Today was the day that Fereldan court had to send a message, not only to Fereldans but also to the many foreign dignitaries present. The message was clear. 'Ferelden stands stronger than ever.' Is this why Anora is so nervous? She wasn't this nervous years ago when she married Cailan. Of course, that event was merely a formality, the two had been practically married for years already at the time.  
    'Maker's breath,' Erlina gasped, 'I never thought I'd see the day!'  
    'What are you on about?'  
    'Don't even try to deny it! You, your majesty, are nervous!'  
    'What? That is absolutely...' Anora noticed the look on Erlina's face, that smug gloating she did whenever she was right. That face was the reason Anora wanted Erlina to be her handmaiden. 'Fine, I'm a bit nervous. But today is an incredibly important day for Ferelden after all.'  
    'Oh, I'm sure,' Erlina said with sarcasm dripping from every word she uttered.  
    'Half the cathedral is filled with Orlesians!'  
    'And since when do you fear Orl–'

Their conversation was rudely interrupted by the sound of the cathedral's doors slamming open. Erlina took it upon herself to peek out, into the hall, only to quickly close the door. Anora stared at Erlina, her head leaning on her hand.  
    'Was that Rendon?' Anora asked calmly.  
    'Yes, it was.'  
    'Was he covered in blood?'  
    Erlina nodded.  
    'His own blood?'  
    'I'm not sure.'  
    'Well... could have seen that–'  
    'Wynne!' a low-pitched, growling voice yelled from the other room. 'Chief needs you, Wynne!'  
    'Erlina,' Anora said after a sigh of exhaustion, 'could you please tell the minstrels to play something loud?'

      
'You look just like your mother in that dress, did you know that?'  
    A smile appeared on Anora's face. 'I know, nan. You told me last time too.'  
    Neither of them spoke while stared at the mirror. After some time, she suddenly turned around and wrapped her arms around the short, old woman.  
    'Anora, dear,' her grandmother said with a frail voice, 'I'm going to get tears on your dress.'  
    'It's alright,' she said, fighting back her own tears. 'You wouldn't be the first.'

Anora slowly walked towards the altar, accompanied by her grandmother. Soldiers stood file on either side of the path, their armour painted following their allegiance: Ferelden's red and gold to her right and Highever's green to her left. She never was too fond of that particular shade of green. The guests on the balconies, mostly foreign dignitaries, had taken a stand. As expected, nearly every noble house in Orlais has sent someone to celebrate the joyous occasion. _They're just here to spy on each other._ The king of Nevarra seems to be occupied and has sent a delegation instead. _The bastard's too old to wipe his own arse, let alone travel all across Thedas for a wedding._ Even the Imperium was kind enough to send some magisters to extend their well-wishes. _Here to find out about my father's actions, no doubt._ Halfway to the altar, it dawned on Anora that she hadn't yet taken the time to look at the damaged caused by her soon-to-be husband. Surprisingly, her grandmother was right. _Remember, he looks fantastic in blue. The cutlass doesn't suit him, though._

The first time she locked eyes with Rendon, he was fighting for his life. And now, months later, he stands before her, ready to serve Ferelden by her side. There were a thousand questions she wanted to ask him, but she could read the answers from his face, as is required with men of few words.  
    Suddenly, Rendon spoke. 'I swear unto the Maker,' _Shit, we're at this part already?_   'and the Holy Andraste, to love this woman the rest of my days.' 

The Chantry demanded that these words are spoken as part of every wedding, but to hear those words with his voice... did he mean it? Did he really want to cast politics aside to find love? Was she willing to do the same? The room got quiet once more, people were staring.  
    'I...' _Oh, shit._  
    'I swear unto the Maker,' Rendon whispered with a soft voice, shielding his face from the crowd.  
    'I swear unto the Maker', Anora said aloud, 'and the holy Andraste, to love this man the rest of my days.' 

'Thank you for paying attention to Elemena,' Anora whispered.  
    'Thank Fergus, he signalled me when to open my mouth.' Anora did her best not to burst into tears laughing.  
    'Are you ready?' Rendon followed.  
    'For what?' she asked. Suddenly, Anora felt a hand reach around her side, pulling her closer towards Rendon. She directed her hand towards his cheek as if they had done this a thousand times before. She didn't hear the quiet sobbing from the crowd or the slowly upcoming music. Right there, right then, all that existed were they: the Queen and her Warden. 

**Justinian 12, 9:32 Dragon – First tears**  
She watched, resting her head on the door's frame, tired of seeing the same scene every morning. Not yet noticed by the man, his hand wrapped around a glass of whisky from Alamar, staring over the palace's moonlit courtyard. 

Two bottles of whisky and a Nevarran wine had been emptied since his return from Amaranthine, and the room seemed to perpetually carry the scent of alcohol. It saddened Anora to see Ferelden's hero act like this, the man who risked his life time and again to protect her people. 

His hand trembled as he poured the amber liquid, filling his glass to the brim. Even with the glass pressed firmly against his mouth, his hands failed top stop shaking. Drops of sweat rolled down his muscled arms, continually dripping onto the floor.  
    'Are you alright, love?' Anora asked, whispering with a soft voice.  
    'I'm fine,' Rendon replied after a brief silence.  
    'You were scream–'  
    'Maker's breath woman,' snarled Rendon. 'I told you, I'm fine.'  
    Anora, surprised by Rendon's sudden outburst, took a moment to catch her breath. 'I know what you're doing,' she continued. 'You're hiding your true face because–'  
    'Stop it Anora.'  
    '–you're afraid.'  
    'Bullshit.'  
    'I was raised by a man who did the same and, despite his flaws, I loved my father very much. I just wished he would've taken off his mask more often.'  
    Anora saw Rendon stare into his glass, hoping to find answers in there. But no answers came to him, so she continued, her voice getting louder with each word she spoke. 'You knew what you were getting into. And I've tried my best to make our marriage work, but I can't if you refuse to take off your mask. So don't you ever dare to snap at me like that again because at least I tried.' 

Rendon continued to stare out of the window, seemingly uninterested in her words. But Anora knew that the second she went off at him, she pulled him from his alcohol-fueled shell back into reality. For a brief moment, the look of the determined warrior she met years ago returned in his eyes. She walked away, giving her husband time to think. But before she closed the door behind her, he opened his mouth.  
    'It's not the darkspawn that keep me up at night, nor is it Howe...'  
    She returned to Rendon's side and found the soft tone in her voice she had held many times before. 'Then tell me what does.'  
    'Do you know why I left Orlais? I was a married man once, long before I met you. A girl I met in Halamshiral. It took some time to earn her trust, with me being a Chevalier and all that.'  
    'How did you do that?'  
    'Her brother was imprisoned for attacking another of the order. It was clear he didn't do it, but he just happened to be an elf who happened to be present. Over the months that followed, I looked out for her and her family. It was more difficult than you'd think, she always had a knack for getting herself into trouble on behalf of others. Always ready to help them.' A faint smile appeared on Rendon's face.  
    'She sounds like an amazing woman.'  
    'Yes. She was.'  
    It felt as if Anora's lungs were bereft of air. 'She... was?'  
    'We fled Halamshiral shortly after Thenera was born. I had planned our escape months in advance. But something went wrong, people died, it was a complete mess. The order hunted us for days. They caught us in Sahrnia.'  
    Anora noticed Rendon started speaking much softer, unable to find the air he needed to put volume to his words. Anora didn't want to ask him, but she knew she had to. 'What did they do?' she asked, stuttering, on the edge of breaking down herself.  
    'I killed a Chevalier during our escape, a crime punishable by dishonourable discharge, the order's way of saying that I was to be hanged. But the order decided something else.' 

__Visions of Thenera, taken from her mother's arms, tore through Rendon's mind. Telia's screaming echoed in his head, accompanied by his daughter's bone-cutting cries. One of the Chevaliers pulled a dagger, the sun reflected onto its freshly polished blade. The dagger was brought down. The crying stopped. The Chevaliers forced Rendon to turn his head to Telia, who was brought to her knees, with a knife pressed gently against her throat. She stopped screaming, she had already given up. One cut was all it took._ _

__Rendon's face had returned to the same blank stare it always had. Were it not for his heavy breathing and the tears rolling down his cheeks, one could hardly see the storm that was razing his mind. Anora wrapped her arms tightly around her husband. Anora hated herself for putting him through this, but she knew that it was the right thing to do, for the both of them._ _


End file.
